Miracles
by Kalims
Summary: Two drabbles for Christmas! The perfect holiday for humor and tragedy.


**A.N: I had _decided _to create this yesterday at 11PM. It's Christmas, and I like those cute little one-shots ^^ Sorry if this seemed a bit rushed; I had to finish it before tomorrow.**

**Oh yeah, I decided I'd make it similar to Life on the Line, since there was no way I'd create a whole decent one-shot in such short period.**

**Enjoy ^^**

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><p><strong>Miracles<strong>

**1. All I Want for Christmas is You -Mariah Carey.**

"Don't come in!" Will shrieked, her eyes open wide and her teeth involuntary clenched as she reached for the opposite side of the room with inhuman speed, though stumbling on the way, falling and rolling on the wooden ground and into the pile of clothes.

"What was that? Are you okay?" Her knee hurt like a bitch, but there was no time for pain. Will hastily opened one drawer and dug in it, taking pencils and socks (what were they doing in the same drawer anyway?) out and cursing under her breath before moving on to the next one.

Her room looked like hurricane Katrina passed by, along with hurricane Hugo, Andrew, and Opel. It was hopeless. "Uh, um–I'm just wrapping the gift for you! It'll take a second baby; patience." She had nothing that even _resembled_ a Goddamned present and she wished, in equivalence, her boyfriend had no sight. Life would've been so much easier like that.

"That's it. I'm coming in." She heard Matt say through the closed door, giving her no time to even think. As the door opened, she swirled around, clutching in her hand the first thing she caught and could not identify, praying it was something presentable.

"Hey you!" Her smile was rigid with nervousness and her neck obviously cramped, with blood vessels threatening to explode. Matt's grin didn't waver–if anything, it had stayed because of this hilarious sight of his girl–and stepped closer to her. Her right arm was settled behind her back.

"Here I am. Now where's that gift you got me waiting fifteen minutes outside for you to prepare it?" She should've left him days outside, because Guardianship had left her so busy she couldn't find the time to get Matt a decent present. She laughed faking her unease, closed her own eyes instead of making him close his, because what was the gift was a mystery to her as much as a mystery to him.

"Here it is . . ." Will whispered as she revealed her arm from its hiding place and showed it to him. There was a long pause which she didn't dare to break. Maybe it was a silence of awe?

"Um . . . Hon? What is that . . ." She opened her eyes only to find out that her promises of a lifetime of monasticism were in vain, for in her hand was a her black bra, whilst Matt's face was a pale one. "Is . . . that my gift?"

"I'm not wearing any underwear." The words were blurted out, impulsively and as a possible last-minute saver. "I th-thought . . . uh–now how's _that_ for a Christmas present?" She tried to smirk seductively, to wiggle her eyebrows in charm but her face came out as a blushing tomato with awkward and stiff facial expressions. Her heart was down her legs while her blood pressure had got to have reached the ceiling.

And Matt . . . he was laughing, the bastard, and even though his chuckle had relaxed her tensed muscles, she was still dazed. "Will–oh my God, you're something else Will." He complimented as he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a hug. On his chest, still shaking with laughter, was her head as he pecked her hair. "You didn't bring me a thing, did you?"

Time for plan B. "I was trying to – I had not time – Candracar and school and home and friends – I didn't even take a bath today! I–" Will exploded with excuses, which were wholehearted and true. She really did feel guilty for not bringing him anything, in this special time of the year. She was a horrible girlfriend.

"Calm down Will. I don't care." Matt said.

"And you should've seen the mall traffic; it was insane, and . . . you don't care?" She blinked. "But, Matt . . ."

He sighed smiling. "No, I don't. Will, Christmas isn't about the gifts and the parties and the decoration." He faced her and pointed a finger toward her chest. "It's about what's in there."

"So it _is_ about my bra." Matt laughed.

"You're hilarious today. No, it's about the heart. I know you care for me Will, and you going through all this trouble–" His voice trailed for a second as his eyes watched horrifyingly that state the room was in. "–is the greatest gift I can have. Your love." The redhead's heart, previously on the ground, was now melting along its owner.

"Really?" Her eyes were sparkling with gratitude and warmth. Having him as a boyfriend . . . it was a miracle. A Godsend.

"Yes." Matt confirmed her firmly. "Baby, all I want for Christmas is you." He resumed hugging her, and this time she hugged back, snuggling solidly against him.

"I want an Ipad."

**2. White Christmas –Bing Croby**.

It was the supposed to be the brightest day of the year. The happiest holiday. The best memories . . .

Will grimaced, facing her open closet and staring at her clothes. She was supposed to be having fun right now, but she wasn't. She couldn't. Not with one of her best friend's brother's death occurring on this _joyous_ day. Peter had passed away, in a car accident, and he died quickly, instantly . . . leaving behind a less tranquil world after finding out about his death. And for the first time in her life, Will was wide awake before ten o'clock, receiving the shocking news from a grave, devastated phone call.

She had to pick something to wear now. Not a dress– not her beautiful, light blue delicate dress which she had bought for this day specifically–she wasn't going to that party anymore.

She had to attend a funeral.

On this glorious day's Eve.

Will grunted out of solemness and misery, as she took out a black jacket and a black pair of pants. She spread them on her bed, and for a long minute she couldn't break her gaze from them; they looked wrong. Their color . . . it was so unfit, off, faulty . . . And when her skin had touched the fabric, it felt sinful. She shouldn't be wearing _black_.

Will could've sworn that the mirror cringed when she faced it wearing her current clothes. She looked misfigured, and Taranee didn't need any more roughness today. She needed softness, and silk and light. On this day, _everybody_ needed that. She frowned, determined; it was a factual thing.

And who was Will to break nature's laws and order.

XXXXXXXX

It wasn't even snowing. Some day, Taranee grimly thought. Why did she have to say goodbye to her brother tonight? What did she have to say goodbye at all! This was a time of miracles, why couldn't he just, like, live forever!

But he didn't, and therefore the graveyard was full of people. Her parents had their guests, and she had her friends but they were not talking . . . they all knew how much Peter meant to her.

She couldn't look at the gravestone anymore, and she couldn't hear consolations, so she looked away. She looked at the distance, past the group of people, of black and black and black that made her want to tear her own dark clothes all the more, and she caught a figure appearing. Taranee watched, in confusion, as the person got closer and the crowd separated and whispered and murmured about the newcomer.

The teen couldn't hear that either. Her gaze was fixed on the figure–on Will–and she contemplated her pure white tunic with numbness. The redhead approached her, smiled sadly, weakly, and Taranee whispered a thank you with watery eyes. She felt like a weight was pulled off her chest, and she understood.

After all, it was Christmas.

Something just had to be white.

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><p><strong>A.N:<strong> **Yeah, two songs instead of ten . . . but hey, those are longer! And brother asked me to play strip poker so I couldn't work on more.**

**Hope you all enjoyed, and merry Christmas ^^**

**P.S: We did not play strip poker.**

**P.S2: Or did we...**

**I'm off ^^**


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